by N Felts
sigh, Maple takes a pair of vials from beneath the counter and places them in front of the odd individual.
“You’ve got a week before I come looking for you,” she nods, smiling mischievously. “Trust me, I’ll find you.”
“Cheers, gorgeous. I’ll see you around, yeah?” He concludes, snatching the vials instantly and sauntering toward the door. Stealing a glance at the cloaked beggar, he wiggles the fingers of his empty hand causing his cowl to pull itself up over his head, shrouding his face. Unimpressed with the parlor trick, Zelda rolls her eyes beneath her own hood as he passes by. “Princess,” he respectfully nods, touching the snout of his hood as if he were formally tipping a hat. The briefest of visions spike through the beggar’s mind the moment he passes by. Shuttering far too quickly to make sense of, Zelda sees a land she has never known. First, the face of a giant clock, then a gargantuan, perforated tower, and finally, a torrent of evil apparitions flooding forth and casting all in darkness. Satisfied with her wide-eyed gasp, the man continues out the door letting it drift shut on its own behind him. Standing in a momentary stupor, Zelda realizes he slipped a piece of paper into her hand.
“You were saying?” Maple asks, leaning on her elbows and daydreaming about her promised escapade. Considering going after him, the princess moves toward the counter to interrogate the witch instead.
“I’ve never seen that man around here before,” she starts, still stunned by his ability to see right through her disguise.
“Back off, sister,” she states bluntly. “He only comes around here to see me.”
“You called him, reaver?” She inquires after an irritated sigh.
“Profession, not a name. Don’t spend a lot of time in magi circles do you?”
“Not nearly enough it would seem,” she admits, still sifting through the visions in her head.
“His name is Geist. Can’t say I know where he came from, but he’s a ghost hunter. If he spent half as much time chasing ghosts as he does drinking me out of business he’d be rich,” Maple admits, still too faint of heart to mind.
“I see. Well good luck,” she nods with a smile. “He’s not my type. Can I get another red potion?”
“Certainly,” she nods, much more chipper after hearing she is still without competition. “Damn it, Geist. Last one,” she mutters under her breath before rising from behind the counter to offer the vial. “Don’t let him drink the whole thing at once. It’s better to try and make it last.”
“Got it,” she sighs, accepting the vial. “Be seeing you.”
“Take care. Give your father my regards,” Maple smiles, still unconvinced the daughter of a farmer could come up with so much coin for a cure. Outside, the morning begins to drift toward afternoon, and the mysterious man has long since vanished. Unfolding the dirty scrap of paper, Zelda cannot believe her eyes.